


much too full of resentment

by safeandsound13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, and bellamy being in a romantic relationship with someone, bechos look away this one isnt for you, bellamy blake clarke griffins number one fan, but if that triggers you i warned you, from now on he only gets to be in rs with clarke griffin period, i did that for all of us, i did that! i suffered through it!, i went and got forgiveness back for us, im reclaiming forgiveness, like emotional cheating bitch pls, theres some echo pov in this, this is basically just the only becho scene i'd ever want on the show, this is in honor of beliza reclaiming pandas, uhm...yeah, you better appreciate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safeandsound13/pseuds/safeandsound13
Summary: Echo sees Bellamy and Clarke together near the temporal anomaly and assumes she's hallucinating her worst fear. Instead, it's reality.





	much too full of resentment

**Author's Note:**

> okay lmao first of all if you ship becho get lost nobody wants you here shipping becho is a bellamy blake hatecrime and i WILL prosecute you . anyway so. some friendly discourse on twitter got me thinking about this delicious s6 time anomaly becho/brolarke confrontation that we'll never get because the show thrives on wasted potential. but i decided to write the scenario anyway bc what else am i going to do with my time? basically this whole thing is what echo does best. serve angsty purposes for bellarke and for bellarke ONLY. pe-ri-od. 
> 
> *tiffany pollard voice* EcHo'S pOv?? yeah...... as always i did try and make this realistic so i didnt openly bash echo (i know big surprise) or sumn but if you dont want to be confronted by her thoughts and feelings skip this fic lmao. i saw someone call the woods xavier and co were hallucinating in the verge so thats what i called it. no idea if its correct but the writers of the 100 think being lefthanded is a personality trait so this show makes ALL of us stupid no exceptions
> 
> love u all and y'all better appreciate me for basically getting into that psychos head. im braver than ANY us marine, full fucking stop.

__

* * *

_Worst fear. Deepest desire._

Echo was frozen on the spot when she watched her younger self skid up to her, all untainted and innocent. The girl takes her hand, makes her twirl her around, the both familiar and unfamiliar giggling sound she makes like ice water running down her back, seeping into her bones and settling there. She feels cold all over. Numb.

"Come on, don't be boring," she scolds her, tugging on her hand. For a moment, Echo stands there, accepts the tiny, unscarred, clean fingers wrapped around her own hand. If only she could warn her, tell her what's to come. Tell her to run, at the first sight of Queen Nia's men at her door, tell her to run and never look back.

But it won't change anything. She has a mission — and if there's anything the past has given her, it's a razor sharp focus. Echo yanks her hand back, feels like her skin is on fire. No. She doesn't have time for this. She knew she was close to making it through the Verge, knew she was close to finding Bellamy and Clarke, just a little bit further.

The girl's lip starts to tremble, a tear gliding down her cheek. Her mind flashes back to her mother, her throat constricting with emotions she hasn't felt since that moment, hasn't let herself feel. _If you cry, they'll hear you._ It gives her a sudden burst of strength — Echo turns away, starts running to her destination. She doesn't care about the branches that scratch her skin as she moves, the dirt-covered scrapes on her palms as she topples over a large rock before getting up again.

Running. Not away from her, she reminds herself, towards her boyfriend. The future, not the past.

Then she sees it. A fire, a log, Bellamy and Clarke leaning back against it. As she treads closer, careful, she can make out more details. His arm is around her shoulder, her face buried in his neck as her body shakes with sobs, the flickers of the fire dancing across their skin. Closer, and she can see his thumb move over her arm, hear the soft hushed whispers between them, her hair messily pulled up to reveal the fresh stitches on the back of her neck. Even closer, the tears clumping together Clarke's eyelashes, the tremble in her chin, her fingers clasping onto his jacket so tightly her knuckles are completely white. The dark, almost tortured look in Bellamy's eyes, the tightness in his jaw, the cut on his cheekbone being held together by a butterfly bandage. Can even make out what they're saying.

"... at myself for what I did to you."

"You know I'll always forgive you, right?"

"Bellamy—" she croaks out, her tongue dipping out to wet her dry, cracked lips. She looks completely wrecked; messy in a way Echo's never seen her, or maybe Clarke has never let her see.

"No," he cuts her off, voice almost authoritative, his grip on her arm tightening. "That's what we've always done. You and me."

Seeing that little girl; her clear eyes, her consciousness clear of tally marks, that was the image she most longed to see in the mirror. Which must mean — _this_ is her worst fear.

Something clearer washes over Clarke's face, her gaze less clouded, corners of her mouth curving up just slightly as she pushes herself up just enough to pull back her face to look at him, one brow cocked. "If you say 'together', I'm going to —"

He chuckles, no, _laughs_. Loud, and bold, and completely at ease. Just like that the moment is less tense, easier between the two of them, tranquil. Echo swallows hard, tries to get the lump in her throat to go away; feeling like an intruder.

Something is different. They don't taunt her, as a matter of fact, they don't even look up at her. It's like she's not even here.

For some reason this realization makes her stumble back, a branch snapping under her foot. An amateur's move.

"Echo?" He suddenly says, and she's noticed he's turned his head, his forehead creased in confusion. It doesn't make sense.

Clarke quickly wipes at the tears on her face with the back of her hands, sitting up and leaning away from Bellamy. To her credit, she doesn't move any further away, owning up to the fact she was almost in her boyfriend's lap just mere seconds ago. Either she cares enough about Echo not to try and pretend like she's stupid, or she doesn't feel sorry enough to cover up anything.

"I've been looking for you two," Echo says, still eyeing Clarke warily. The blonde makes eye-contact, brief, turning up the corners of her mouth as an amiable gesture, then turns her gaze back to the ground.

She waits for the other shoe to drop. Why isn't he telling her he never wanted her? Why isn't she telling her she finally got what belonged to her? Anything? It doesn't. She takes a few steps closer, feeling the heat of the fire on her flesh. "Madi tried to kill the primes. Russell won't negotiate with anyone but Clarke."

Bellamy gets up from the ground, wipes his palms on the back of his pants, leaving dirt covering his sides. He glances over at Clarke out of the corner of his eyes, then clears his throat as he crosses the distance between the two of them.

"It's good to see you," he says against the side of her head, the brief moment he's wrapped his arms around Echo's slim frame. The whole movement is stiff, robotic almost, her skin prickling with the feeling something is terribly off. That's when she realizes this isn't the temporal anomaly, not some dark, twisted fear she's tried to bury somewhere deep in her mind — it's _real_.

She spent years with him, years trying to get his forgiveness, years of trying to find a way to turn it into something more, years by his side; loving him, fighting for him, protecting him, following him, making him her entire identity and it still — it _still_ will never add up. No matter the hours, months, years she puts in, they will never compare to so much as a minute he spends with _her_.

Something inside of her snaps, but she keeps it together with the apprehension and complete resentment she feels as she steps back to look at him. It's not hard to keep her face straight, it's what she's been taught. To never reveal her emotions, her darkest fears, her deepest secrets. She did that for him — touched upon that part of herself that she had been forced to lock away a long time ago — and he couldn't do the same for her.

The one thing he always managed to forget to mention to her, neglected to inform her about — his _girlfriend —_ was sitting right there on the ground, a few feet away. He's in love with Clarke Griffin.

"Is Madi okay?" It's her, now on her feet too. Her forehead creased with worry as she bites on her lip.

He told her to look to the future, not the past and here he is. Stuck with an idea, a thought, of what the two of them used to be, who Clarke used to be. Echo feels sick. She changed. For him. She worked so hard, broke herself over and over again, pricked and prodded at unhealed bruises, slashed open scars and even created new wounds, just to heal in whatever he wanted her to be, to be what he needed.

Echo answers after a long beat. "Russell has her along with the rest of our people, but I'm sure he won't do anything to a child."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Clarke hisses, running a hand over her blonde hair roughly, heat directed more at the situation than at Echo, but she still has to clench her jaw to keep from snapping. Bellamy's fingers twitch at his side, but he knows better than to actually reach out and comfort her. "Josephine told me they once put her into a six month year old."

Echo inhales sharply, earning a weird look from her boyfriend. She ignores him. "We better get going then." Back through the Verge. That should be fun.

Clarke's eyes shift from her to Bellamy, uncomfortable, and she tucks a piece of hair that fell from her ponytail back behind her ear. She nods her head over to the backpack, over by a tree trunk. "I'll get our stuff."

It's a badly veiled attempt at giving them some privacy. She must've felt the tension between them too; the sense of betrayal that made her straighten her spine, keep her chin jutted out.

"What's up?" He asks, gentle, hand coming up to cover her elbow, and she finally looks at him now, teeth gritted together, arms crossed over her chest.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Bellamy frowns, hand dropping back down to his side. "Tell you what?"

Is he playing dumb? Echo huffs, tries hard to keep her voice down, even. "You said nothing would change."

His jaw ticks, like he has any right to be annoyed with her. "And it hasn't."

"Stop lying to me!" She breaks, her eyes narrowing together. Even Clarke's head snaps to look over at them. Echo doesn't care if she hears, maybe she should. "I'm not blind, Bellamy. I always saw the way you looked at her. And I accepted it because — because I thought that in the end it was still you and me. That she was in the past, with the old you."

It's infuriating how calm he's being. How calculated and reserved he's responding. He doesn't get mad. Not _really_ mad, just snaps at her at most. He doesn't go crazy, reckless; not for Echo, just for her.

"I didn't lie. Nothing's changed. This is how I've always felt about her. She's important to me. If you can't deal with that —" She can't let him finish that sentence, it already feels like he just knocked her square in the chest, like she's struggling to get air inside her lungs. She doesn't want to hear it.

"I could. I could deal with it when I just thought it was some sick favor you thought you owed her, or some, some sort of fucked up codepency thing you couldn't let go off." She racks his face, tries to find any semblance of emotion on it. Why is he being so detached, so placid? She says the next best thing she can think of to try and get him to do something, anything. "But you're _in_ love with her, Bellamy!"

He doesn't say anything. He just flinches, looks like he's been slapped in the face. This can't be new information to him. She refuses to believe it. He's a coward. "At first I thought — it was just her. You know, I.. I saw all the tortured looks she gave you, the longing stares, the desperate little _pathetic_ glances, and I figured you were just — doing what you've always done. You like feeling needed." Echo shakes her head, whole body going cold at the memory, how powerless and weak she felt. "But then she left you to _die_ , and I thought maybe that would _finally_ make you realize that she's not as perfect as you made her out to be."

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair wildly, skeptic. "We've _all_ done unspeakable things, Echo, including you."

He doesn't get to turn this on her. He doesn't get to do that.

"It took you three years to even look at me!" She snaps, hates that her voice shakes, that Clarke gets to see her this way. Weak. Defeated. Broken down. "It only took you days. _Days_ , Bellamy! Days to forgive her for leaving you to die." Echo scrunches up her face in disgust. "Your precious Wanheda."

"I'm not just the person who shot up that grounder village, just like you're not just the person who almost killed my sister. Who killed Gina," Bellamy dismisses her, simply, like it's the easiest thing he's ever done. It's just a fact. "She's more than that."

"To you, maybe," she responds, quieter, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Echo turns her head to look over at Clarke, hunched over by the tree, frozen in place. She's pretending to rummage through the backpack, pretending to be busy, but she's doing a terrible job of it. Her entire posture is stiff, distressed. She'd be a horrible spy.

"Echo—" He interjects, opening and closing his mouth soundlessly, blinking at her. Eventually, he reasons, "Can we just — not do this right now?"

It sets her off — the refusal he has to just come out and say it. It's absolutely infuriating. She doesn't want to do this later, doesn't want to do it in private. She wants to do this now. She wants Clarke to hear, too.

"No," she practically screams, shaking her head wildly. She feels a little delirious, the hurt she feels in her chest clawing up her throat and making her say ugly things. Ugly, true things. "I think — I think it would be better if you at least just owned up to it." Bellamy exhales sharply, his eyes unmoving off her face. She can tell she's at least getting close to getting under his skin, to getting a reaction.

"Be a man," she spits, continuing, pushing every button she can think of. "If you could look me in the eye and tell me that it will _always_ be her. That given the choice between her and me, or _hell_ , her and our people — it will always be her. Always Clarke."

He still doesn't move. Frozen in place, cool, collected, composed, removed from the situation. It tears at her fucking heart. He's using his head with her. That's the worst part of it all. He's probably rationalizing everything she's saying, trying to react in a way that benefits each party the most. He doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to hurt Clarke. Well, too fucking late. He doesn't even have to think about it with Clarke, he just acts. That's the most disgusting part of it all.

He shares his life with Echo, his family, his plans, his _bed_ , but he can never ever share his heart. Not all of it. He never has. He always kept just a little bit of it tucked away, safe for her. Always hoping that someday she'd return. She did. And now she can fucking have it.

"Deny it then." Echo pushes him, plants her hands square on his shoulders. He doesn't even budge. She does it again. "Deny it. I dare you."

Bellamy swallows tightly, a blank look on his face. The silence speaks louder than words, and despite everything, she feels tears prick at the back of her eyes. Echo takes in a shaky breath, feels pathetic for how weak it comes out, "Jok of."

"Guys, we should really get going," Clarke calls over, still by the tree, her voice small and uncertain. Like she doesn't — she's _not_ the victim here. If anything, this is all her fault.

"You should've just stayed dead," Echo bites, venomous, far beyond caring about anything anymore. What they think of her, what bridges she burns. "Maybe then he could finally move on from this fucked up addiction he has to saving you. To finally be worthy enough in _your_ eyes, to being redeemed by the princess from the Ark, the girl who took all the credit, but none of his traum—"

"Enough," Bellamy barks, cutting her off abruptly, taking an almost threatening step towards her. It's almost funny how _that's_ what gets to him. "What the hell is wrong with you all of a sudden? She's the reason we're even all still alive. It doesn't matter what she did — we, we lost her. Almost for real this time. Don't you — don't you get how twisted that is? To throw that back in her face? In mine?" He inhales, harsh, and his voice actually trembles, "We _just_ got her back."

Echo lets out a mirthless laugh, shaking her head to herself, pressing her finger and thumb into her eye-sockets briefly. She feels almost drunk. "Don't you mean _you_?"

There's a tense silence that stretches between the three of them, and then he lowers his voice, like she's a child that he's gotten impatient with, "What do you want me to say here, Echo?"

"Nothing," she says, regaining some of her composure. "I don't want you to ever speak to me again."

It's almost freeing, when she says the words, relief washing over her. She's been trying so hard for so long to be exactly what he wanted her to be, so he could take what he needed, that it feels like a reprieve almost; to break away. To finally get to take a breath.

"It really doesn't have to be like this, I'm sorry th—" Clarke cuts in, gentle and self-righteous and _hypocritical_ , and there she goes again. Her apology is worth as much as a bandaid on a bullet hole. It doesn't change anything.

Echo scoffs in response, dropping her arms at her sides as she stalks back into the Verge.

"Come on," he mutters, quietly, resigned.

Clarke makes a noise in the back of her throat after a beat, no doubt on the receiving ends of one of his special looks just for her, voice impossibly soft. "For what it's worth, I really _am_ sorry."

"Don't apologize," he sighs, and she has to strain to hear the last part, "Let's just — focus on getting back to Madi, okay?" Like they're a fucking unit, Echo barely a blip on their radar.

Then their footsteps follow her deeper into the woods, leaves crunching noisily under their feet. They deserve each other.

**Author's Note:**

> ideally this is the part where she runs into the temporal anomaly and never returns. bellamy really said fuck echo's life there for a second im absolutely in love with that legend!
> 
> anyway let me know what you think and hmu [here](http://www.captaindaddykru.tumblr.com) or [here](http://www.twitter.com/captaindaddykru) if you want to yell, prompt me, or make fun of echo's face journeys together.<3


End file.
